After night had a hunter moon,
Not much on lens except smile,
What would an aubade be like?

A liquid moon was on sky’s face,
Trees getting ready to drop leaves
For a winter slowly creeping in.

We did not want a super moon
As extra prop to midnight hunt,
So we can see an animal bright.

We were merely hunting words
In midnight’s innocent jungles.
We are far removed from caves.

After such a moon-laden night
An aubade has to cry from love
For a sun’s gold, a fire by noon.

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